A Wife's Dark Talent

Soon he was incorporating Kiersten Modeling, LLC, setting up a banking account, web and email services, and payment services for it, all paid for from his and Jaime's joint checking. The alter ego name "Kiersten", or "Goddess Kiersten" more fully, for his wife came to him after thinking it would be appealing to allude to and capitalize on Jaime's ethnic Scandinavian, geographically Midwestern, background. She was a true born and bred Lake of the Isles Princess after all. And the idea to use contract modeling as a business cover he settled on after realizing that would be easy to pull off. Jaime had the skills as a former actress and ballerina, and would have a spot on portfolio after they were done with her photoshoot. In any case he ran both ideas by Jaime first, and the only thing she had to say was

"Sounds perfect."

Which settled the decisions. Indeed, as Henry turned to finding a photographer, and a makeover artist, for Jaime's portfolio he meditated on what it said about him. That regardless of whether he had been reluctantly manipulated or coerced into all this, he was quite openly enabling it. That he was doing all the legwork to put his own wife out there. Did that make him an immoral wife pimp? Or a weak willed closeted sub-husband wannabe? Or an even more weak willed cuckold? Two, or all three, of the above? He was not sure, and it churned his stomach as much as his heart. But he still had no wherewithal to do anything else, other than enable it further. As his normally perceptive wife gave him nothing but satisfied smiles anytime he gave her a status update. Did she not see he was tormented about it? Henry really did not know. Because he could not come to believe she did not read him. Yet she seemed to have developed the sweetest of poker faces that gave nothing away. So he felt without an opening. Stuck, doing the sordid work.

Soon Henry had found a photographer and makeover artist, a man and a woman couple, that worked as a team. About half their business were brides and their weddings, but they did other adjacent type projects as well, even intimate boudoir type photoshoots as well. So Henry thought they were perfect. Even more so, when after speaking with the photographer and explaining to him that Henry and Jaime wanted a photographic portfolio of her looking provocative but classy throughout. Always dressed so no lingerie, let alone nude, shots, but unambiguously inviting nonetheless. He seemed to read between the lines and Henry's true intent. Because of his own initiative he discreetly and tactfully offered the obviously nervous and uncomfortable husband the following.

"Ok Henry, I think I understand. I will even make you a special, and throw in 20% more photos for free. And since I have a feeling you will appreciate that, in half of the overall portfolio I'll make sure your lovely wife's eyes are not visible. A face turned away here, a loose strand of hair there, and things like that will do the trick. So between those and the other half, that you can still crop as you see fit, you should be able to find enough photos to suit your purpose."

And Henry was stunned into embarrassed silence for a minute. But managed to collect himself enough to say.

"Thank you. That would be perfect."

And just a few days later Jaime and Henry and the artist couple got together for a four hour appointment at Jaime's townhouse and a nearby botanical garden for the indoor and outdoor portions of the shoot respectively. Jaime selected her own clothes. Four ensembles in total. A casual denim minidress and pumps, and a cocktail little black dress with strappy sandals, made two of the outfits. A pair of low rise bootcuts with a halter neck top and booties made the third. And a fitted black pant suit with an even more fitted white button down shirt and pumps made the fourth. In all four cases the shoes were stiletto heeled and pointy toed. And in all four cases the garments clung to Jaime's exquisite svelte body like a glove. And though Henry had seen his wife in versions of all four outfits, side by side it struck him how enticing she indeed was in all four. Both minidresses where effectively of the bodycon type, and left miles of Jaime's long legs open to admiration. The bootcuts and halter neck and the pantsuit and shirt ensembles on the other hand, clung so tight to Jaime's body, they were effectively much classier but just as enticing versions of the classic pro-Domme catsuit look. And it all reminded Henry how out of his league his own wife was.

The two artists meanwhile did their job very well, as Henry observed their craft from the side. The makeover artist did Jaime's nails and makeup once. A glamorous but neutral creation that fit all four ensembles. But she did change her hair between get ups. The business suit got elegant loose waves. The bootcuts and halter got a flirty ponytail. The cocktail little black dress a stick bun. And the casual denim minidress got a half-up half-down. Jaime looked ravishing in all four combos. And the photographer, clearly a man with an eye for Henry's wife best looks, did even better. A confident hand to the hip as Jaime stood tall and stared down at the camera. A provocative but demure leg over a knee as Jaime sat enthroned. Lips often cracked open. Bosom often thrust out. Jaime, now all but fully in Goddess Kiersten incarnation, was a woman that made her husband, and he was sure any and all other men who could see her, drool and leak. As they wrestled with a raging erection, that Henry himself sported all through his wife's photoshoot.

One image seemed to burn, to indelibly brand itself, in Henry's mind above the others. Perhaps because just before she posed for the photo, Jaime--or was it Goddess Kiersten now?--turned to Henry, and asked and said to him.

"Do you like? I hope you do, because this is also for you."

Just before she turned away from her husband and into the pose. Sitting on a stone step in the gardens. Legs stretched out before her. The slightly greenish denim minidress pulled high on her thighs. One thigh slightly raised, a hand resting on it, leaving a small but inviting crack with the other thigh for a man to lose his eyes between. And the exquisite blonde's face in profile looking ahead, with pink lips, rosy cheeks, and a princess half-up half-down, staring with as much carnal experience as she did with unattainable hauteur. Confident in the knowledge that she was a woman all men wanted, but only who she chose, could have. And very few, maybe none, were worthy of that honor.

And Henry though Jaime was too good. As a once upon a time actress and ballerina she clearly had absolutely mastery of her face and body. Had she also modelled casually when younger? Played Domme even with previous partners? Henry did not know, but by that point he thought he would not be surprised if so. And the idea that there was much he did not about his wife send shivers down Henry's body. Even as the image still before his eyes, and forever to remain in his mind, embarrassingly almost made Henry cum in his pants with no further stimulation. Like an over-aroused under-satisfied teenager. And shame coursed through him.

Whether Jaime was aware of it or not, Henry realized he was putty, a marionette on strings, in her hands. And that was a terrifying thought. So terrifying, he did not want his wife to know. Thankfully the shoot eventually came to an end. A few days later Henry and Jaime received the photo files. And a couple of days after that Henry sat alone in his and Jaime's house, pressing the publish button on Goddess Kiersten high end Humiliatrix personal website.

*****

The following week was one of the most agonizing of Henry's life. Though he had kept Jaime more or less informed of any work he had done in support of her new sordid hobby, Jaime apparently kept Henry mostly in the dark as to anything she did from her side. Henry had set his wife up with a Goddess Kiersten domain name based email address which Henry himself had no access to. So whether his wife was corresponding with any men that wanted a date with her or not he had no clue. And since in his mind he still had some hope nothing would come of this whole insane idea, it was with a shock, a bit of a torn heart, and even more fear, when come Thursday nearly four weeks after their fateful original pillow conversation, that his exquisite wife said to him.

"Henry, honey, I have a 10pm date tomorrow with a gentleman named Jim. If you check our payment account you should see he has already fully paid for a two hour date. I have exchanged a few emails with him, and in addition to a couple a basics, like a valid picture ID for safety, I have got from him a number of his fantasies and traumas, of his dreams and nightmares. So I am ready to play with him. I need you to drive me to my townhouse. And stay close but not too close--I do not need you loitering like a creep--while you watch. I presume you have set up all the cameras and microphones in the house, and the app in the tablet, right?"

Henry flinched. Recoiled like he had been bitten by a snake. He had not considered Jaime would want him to enable her in one way more: driving her like her chauffeur. But it made sense. If she was dolled up for a date, it would be easier for her if he drove her. Jaime's townhouse was in the next city over the Northeastern corridor, 35 miles and a 45 minute drive away. A political capital rather than the financial capital they lived in. The separation provided some small social distance between their daily life and Jaime's soon to begin nightlife. Though this day and age that did not make too much of a difference. Regardless, yes, it made sense for him to drive her, and if he had acquiesced this far, what was a little more? So Henry finally answered his exquisite and naughty wife.

"Ok. And yes, all the AV stuff is set up at your townhouse. But, are sure you want to do this? I love you, and I do not want you to do anything you will regret."

To which Jaime answered.

"I am sure! So exciting! Just the anticipation makes me feel hot. Does it not make you see me as hot, honey?"

"Jaime. You are the hottest person I have ever met. You could not be any hotter. Who is this man Jim, anyway?"

"Good answer, sugar, but I am sure you will still see me as hotter still. As for Jim, you only need to know he is a 50 year old businessman. It would be better for you if you do not know more right now. You do not want me to spoil the show for you, now do you?"

And Henry was not sure comparing the date his wife was set to have with a movie or TV show was the right analogy. Even if he would be watching it through a four way split screen on a tablet from a couple of blocks away. So his eyes merely fell downcast, as Jaime smiled at him, and he said.

"Sure, Jaime."

And he acquiesced.

The following morning Henry woke up in a state. Jaime's and Henry's routine in the morning was not a major deviation from usual, but Jaime came back from her work an hour earlier than usual as Henry fidgeted nervously waiting for her. They greeted each other with a kiss, also as usual. But to Henry's surprise Jaime soon said.

"Ok honey, do something productive while I get ready for my date."

As she locked Henry out of their master suite. Apparently his wife wanted to get ready in private, and Henry was not sure how he felt about that. It certainly was not helping him assuage his insecurities. Though those were briefly forgotten when Jaime stepped out one hour later, looking absolutely stunning.

Jaime was effectively back in one of her photoshoot getups. The greenish denim minidress with pearl colored patent leather pumps, the half-up half-down, and some light pink and rose makeup. She definitely looked like somebody's trophy girlfriend. Like a billionaire's prize. And as Henry ogled his own wife slack jawed, she merely said to him.

"Jim liked this outfit on me from the photos. So he requested I wear it exactly the same."

And Henry dumbly answered.

"Of course."

Upon which the woman before him merely snapped.

"Well what are you waiting for? Get the keys and let's go!"

Which made Henry flinch. But he was ready, so he merely signaled for his wife to walk ahead, as he closed their home door behind them. And was yet again surprised when he found his wife waiting for him besides the rear passenger door, and once again curtly told him.

"Where are your manners? Get the door for me. And move the front passenger seat forward. I have to become Goddess Kiersten now, and I cannot do it with you besides me. So hurry up, tic toc!"

And this time the curtness began to sting. Henry was less and less sure he was liking this by the minute, but he merely looked at the floor and did as directed before he walked around his wife's luxury SUV and got on the driver seat.

On the drive down to Jaime's, or was it Goddess Kiersten?, pied-a-terre Henry adjusted his rear view mirror to look at his wife. She was looking away from him. As proud as she was distant. Like a true Ice Queen. And in her gorgeous getup and haughty persona, Jaime indeed looked solar surface hot in Henry's eyes. So he struggled to drive with a massive tentpole in his pants, even as there was nothing he wanted more than a hug and kiss from his wife. Some reassurance she was still indeed his wife and she loved him. Even as one minute she did look at him through the rearview mirror, Henry could find nothing but a frosty polar glare, that briefly broke into a subtly malevolent smile before she turned away from him again. And Henry shivered as he gave up hope for any warmth and comfort then.

When finally they arrived to Jaime's elegant rowhouse in the city, she merely waited for her husband to open the door for her, which he did as he knew it was expected of him. And only momentarily turned to him to say.

"Now drive at least two blocks away and let me be. But I expect you to watch every minute of it. And be back for me within fifteen minutes of me being done. Goodbye Henry."

And Goddess Kiersten simply turned heel and left her husband turned valet behind, to wait for her date.

*****

Henry felt his heart was going to jump out of his throat as he sat in his wife's SUV in the parking lot of an empty city park nearby. A 13" UHD screened tablet computer propped over his thighs and against the steering wheel. Wireless earbuds in his ears. Though these last were completely unnecessary--he was alone in a closed vehicle after all--he did not want the sounds of whatever was going to transpire next, reproduced out loud. As we watched in a four way split screen of his wife's living room, his wife, or rather the alter ego of his wife, wait enthroned in a high back armchair for her date. Who arrived at exactly at 10pm as arranged, not a minute early, not a minute late.

"Ding dong!"

Went the doorbell, and Henry could see his wife reach for her phone and send a message. Which must have said "come in, it is open" because immediately after a man opened the door and let himself in. It was Jim.

Henry had a look at Jim. He was indeed older than his wife and himself. About twenty years his wife's senior. Dark haired, like Henry, and relatively fit for his age. But though he was very expensively dressed, in what was clearly a designer business suit, his countenance was meek, cowed, maybe even afraid. And that was before he fully laid his eyes on Goddess Kiersten, sitting elegantly cross legged as she was across the room from him.

"Come here, but stay on your feet two yards away from me."

Said curtly the exquisite blonde in the green minidress. And.

"Yes Mistress."

Replied the man, as he made his way to her.

"It is Goddess Kiersten, Goddess, or even just Kiersten actually. Though one or the other is more appropriate depending of what I am expecting of you. Nevertheless, if you ever call me something incorrect again, you will pay."

And it was delivered with so much quiet menace, not just Jim, but even Henry behind his tablet screen, felt shivers ran down their spine.

"Yes, Goddess. Of course Goddess. Thanks for seeing me!"

"Do not thank me yet, worm, as I have not decided if you are worthy of my time. Everything you told me about you, after all, makes you out to be quite a pathetic man. A loser. A cuck. A complete joke."

Jim flinched, and a tear rolled down the side of his face actually. And in two of his four HD split screens, Henry could see it. The Goddess Kiersten incarnation of his wife was absolutely terrifying, and Henry concluded, Jaime must not be new to this. Even if as a lifestyle, and not a pro, she must have Dommed before. Had to.

"Take off your clothes, all of it, and kneel. And let me see what you got."

Added the Goddess as she prompted her sub to get on with it with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Jim looked down at the floor as he did as instructed, and despite the fact that he was not small shouldered, he was so hunched in submission he looked like a small man. As he finally kneeled naked before the exquisite young blonde before him.

Blonde in a green minidress, who snorted as soon as Jim was done, and stood in four inch stiletto heeled pumps to tower above him, and begin pacing around.

"Spread your knees!"

She barked as she kicked the kneeling man's knees apart with her killer pumps. Leaving him in a strained, and very exposed position. His manhood, which was a little below average, but not much, now fully visible to Henry through one camera. And the idea of a naked man in front of his wife, even a bent and humiliated man, turned his stomach.

But Goddess Kiersten only snorted again, as she paced around Jim, for a minute, two, dragging on the uncomfortable silence as she assessed the man before her like cattle on the auction block. Her strutting was divine. Long leg prances with plenty of hip sway each step. Hips which with Jim on his knees were eye level for him. And even as the Goddess did nothing but pace for a couple of minutes, Henry could see Jim's penis come fully to life on the tablet screen.

"No wonder your wife left you!"

Finally spoke Goddess Kiersten.

"No wonder you have to pay for a girlfriend to give you the time of day! And it is not just that your equipment is inadequate. Is that with an equipment like that, and knowledge of it like you have, your self-esteem is wholly inadequate too. You are a pathetic worm! Is it not so?"

"Yes, Goddess Kiersten."

Henry was reeling, ironically feeling emotional pain in sympathy for the man kneeling naked before his wife. That is, if the haughty blonde Goddess he was watching was his wife at all.

"She must have never loved you. Even liked you. But merely seen a ticket to a comfortable life with you. Then, you were stupid enough to bring your wife and your business partner together. A man who brought all the clients to what used to be your business. A man with the confidence and social ease that you lack. She was bound to find out she could have both wealth and a stud, instead of the loser that you are!"

And Henry could see the tears on the naked kneeling man begin to flow more freely.

"For was it not like that how it happened, worm?"

"Yes, Goddess."

"Your partner always suggesting you go and visit the clients far away? So he could fuck your wife in your house while you were away clueless like a dumb cuck?"

"Yes, Goddess."

"He slept in your bed, drove your car, and drank your whisky while he fucked your wife! He even picked up your daughters from high school and college on occasion. Did it ever occur to you he was tilling the ground for your daughters sexual favor too, you loser?!"

"Not until now Goddess, but please, don't make me think that!"

"Shut up! Do not back talk me! And why do you not want to face the facts? Because now, a year later, your wife finally divorced you and kept the house? Because your partner separated from you and kept most of the business? Because now they are playing house together in what used to be your house, with your daughters in attendance?"